


When I Cannot Sing My Heart

by AlexQueenoftheRiver (orphan_account)



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, College AU, IT IS NOW BITCHES, M/M, bad writing...is that a tag?, coffee shop AU, the rape in this story is glossed over, there is nothing graphic, this is all over the place tbh, this was just a random thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-21 06:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6041448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AlexQueenoftheRiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan was glad to leave that town where nothing happened. He was glad to be free. And then he saw Brendon, and everything was different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryansclit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryansclit/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first story and I'm a bit nervous to post it. I'll post a new chapter every Tuesday, and I hope you guys like it! Comments and kudos are always welcome lovelies. 
> 
> xoxo Sasha

Ryan had always been special. Not in a magical, whimsical way, at least that’s what the doctors had said. But his mother had always told him that he had his own power, one that was strong and bright, that he could shine as brilliantly as he wanted to. She also said that most people wouldn’t understand his power because they were to scared to live in a world where people were different. Where someone might have a power that they didn’t.

At first, Ryan didn’t understand what she meant. His whole family seemed to bask in the light of his power. To smile at him when his specialness showed. To be patient when things were hard. But then he went to school. And he understood what his mother had said to him.

Kids teased him for being “slow.” Teachers wondered if he needed to be sent to a school for “crazy kids” because he understood life in a way that was different than what they were used to. Ryan was bullied and teased and poked and prodded. But he had friends. He had a family. He wasn’t broken or dysfunctional, he was special. And because he understood how frightened the cruel people were of things that were different, none of their unkindness really bothered him.

Despite this, his parents soon became worried about how much he was physically injured. Even though they sent his sister, Sylvie, to pick him up from school most days, he was often kicked and cut while waiting for her. And one day it reached a new level, and Ryan’s power was extinguished. One day Sylvie found him on the pavement, crying, almost naked. His parents were furious. They took him out of school

Though the scars healed quickly, the cuts in his mind stayed fresh and festering. For the first time, Ryan felt ostracized and broken. His mother told him every day about his special power, his father gave him the complete Calvin and Hobbes.

His sister gave him music. She came in with her violin and record player and serenaded him day after day. The music set a delicate gauze over his cuts. It revived his hurting heart. It gave him life, so he picked up his sister’s instrument and began to play. Over the years, he learned everything he could, from Bach to Fall Out Boy. His parents homeschooled him, and he stayed at home for almost five years.

Because the hurting never really stopped. And although he had felt his power seep back in through the music, Ryan would often wake at night, shaking. Remembering rough hands and cruel words, smeared smiles over bloody lips. And when he woke, he wrote and composed, he learned the guitar, the piano, the accordion. Any instrument he could reach he learned to master. He applied to Juilliard, and his parents were frightened. His mother worried about him being alone. Ryan had confidence though. And when his acceptance letter arrived, the power that he had felt growing in his heart grew and grew and he shouted with joy.

Sylvie came down from Washington State where she was finishing up some art show to help him pack. His mother called one of her friends from college and got him an apartment in a building that the woman, Ms. Victoria Mitchell, owned. Ryan was ecstatic. He was going to New York! He would finally be free of the little town who thought of him as the “mentally ill kid who was raped”, and the silent stares from homophobic mothers. He came out to his family before he left, a little bit frightened about how they would react. His father just glanced pointedly at his v-neck, and his mother kissed him on his cheek.

Apparently they knew before he did.

 

New York was loud and huge and Ryan felt like he was living in a state of permanent sensory overload. He got lost on the way to the apartment, and finally swallowed his pride and asked a cab driver, who told him he was crazy to walk around the city alone in the middle of the night.

Ms. Mitchell was about his mother’s age, and very gentle. She showed him his apartment, and closed the door behind him. He went over to stare out the window, where cars raced by, streaking and blurred. He missed home. He was happy to be free. A burning joy leapt in his skin, and he slumped to the floor, letting the tears fall and roll down to the tip of his nose.

He woke up the next morning with his belongings scattered around him and his head sore from being pressed against the floor. Hunger crushed his stomach, and he groaned. He dressed carefully though, wanting to impress the entire city of New York. Winding a scarf around his neck, he grabbed his bag and stepped out of his apartment.

The first day. He was eighteen and alone and young. Everything seemed so colorful and so full, and he felt the power inside of him overflow again.

Breakfast was a scone from the cafe around the corner. A cup of coffee and a sunny smile from the attractive barista. Brendon, he said his name was. Ryan thought about their interaction the entire day. Even when he faced Times Square, he thought about Brendon’s cheerful grin, his full lips.

Ryan knew that he tended to overestimate and overthink. He knew that one smile doesn’t mean anything, and yet it was the first time he’s been able to be himself. To be unknown.

He spent his first week getting to know the city. He visited MoMA and he looked off the top of the empire state building. He visited the cafe everyday, mostly to stalk Brendon. He set up his small apartment. Unpacked all his belongings (instruments) and wrote a song.

And then school started. His classes were hard, but he made a friend. Spencer Smith. Spencer invited him to a party, Ryan declined. Spencer asked him out to lunch, Ryan accepted. The lunch was fun, but Ryan ruled Spencer off completely as a potential boyfriend. Nonetheless, he had made a good ally.  
The one thing he missed was music. He missed having the time to play without worrying about how it would sound in class the next day. He told Spencer. Spencer asked him to come to a small party of musicians. He said it would be like a jam session, with a lot more people.

Ryan suspected Spencer was using him as a wingman so that he could get into Jon Walker’s pants, but he accepted anyway, from pure desperation for music. Spencer grinned and told him to wear something hot. Ryan punched him.

The morning of the party, Ryan visited the cafe, hoping to see Brendon, who’s schedule seemed to be a bit erratic. Even though they never really talked, Ryan was growing increasingly fond of the barista. Even though his hair was always messy and his glasses were crooked and his clothes always seemed to look like pajamas and not not the employee uniform. Those things always annoyed Ryan. For some reason, on Brendon it was just cute. That morning though, Brendon was gone, so Ryan just sat in his usual seat and stared moodily at the composition he was working on, but without Brendon to distract him, nerves about the “jam session” jumped around his body like a rowdy toddler.

Even though he knew that nothing would happen to him, his body still reacted in a defensive manner when he was touched. He still woke up paralyzed in fear. The cuts in his mind were still there, and they dampened his power.

Whatever. He could go to one party without freaking out. He hoped. Spencer grinned at him later that day in class. Ryan’s confidence was bolstered by his friend’s excitement.

That night, he went through his wardrobe carefully. Finally choosing to go with pinstriped white pants and a black button down. He drew on eyeliner carefully, and grabbing a red scarf and his guitar, he ran downstairs, smiling at Ms. Mitchell on his way.

Spencer was waiting for him outside his apartment, and when he saw Ryan he whistled and grinned at him. Ryan blushed and muttered under his breath.

The party was in a neighborhood he didn’t recognize, but like Spencer had said, it seemed small. Small-ish. They entered a packed apartment that smelled faintly of weed. There were several people dancing. From the corner of the living room, he could hear someone playing piano. Spencer poked his arm and gestured frantically in the direction of who Ryan assumed was Jon Walker. Ryan waved him off, grinning.

And then he heard his voice. _Brendon’s_ voice. What the hell, Ryan thought. Why would Brendon be at this party. He turned around and Brendon was standing there, talking to some kid, his hair styled back, his pants tight and made of leather. His smile was blinding. Ryan’s heart stopped. What the actual _hell_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the second chapter! Sorry that my writing is so shitty this week, but I hope you guys like it. I think I'm going to continue to post every Tuesday, so stay tuned! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> xoxo Sasha

Panic seized his heart as Brendon’s eyes met his. _Oh no Oh no Oh no_ He couldn’t stop staring though, Brendon was like the sun, brilliant and blinding and unavoidable. And then Brendon was walking over. Ryan had not prepared for this. He hated being un-prepared, he hated not knowing exactly what to expect. Brendon’s presence was a complete surprise.

“Hi!” Brendon was now standing in front of him. Ryan stared back, suddenly realizing that he had pretty much stalked this guy for the past two weeks. He was a weird stalker, and apparently Brendon didn’t realize it, or if he had he was being remarkably understanding. A blush creeped up his cheeks and he looked down at his hands.

“Hello?” Brendon was trying. Ryan was dumbstruck. 

  


“Hey.” His voice sounded cold and nervous. Brendon’s expressive face closed a bit, and he seemed to be scouting out possible escape routes. Ryan cursed his lack of communication skills, and was about to attempt contact again, but just at that moment, Spencer crashed into him

.  


“Ryro! Guess what just happened?” He squealed, in a very drunk and out of character manner. Ryan frowned in confusion.

  


“What?”

  
Spencer giggled and pointed to the corner where Jon Walker was sitting. “We made out!”

  


Brendon cleared his throat pointedly, and Spencer turned to face him, a wide smile spreading on his face.

  


“Brendon Urie!” He exclaimed, peeling himself off Ryan. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  


Brendon narrowed his eyes. “I live here Spence,” he said slowly.

  


Spencer considered this for a moment, nodded, and then turned back to Ryan. “How do you know him?”

  


Ryan stuttered for a moment because he didn’t exactly know Brendon, he kind of stalked him. He was pretty sure those two things were different. “Um…” He answered helpfully.

  


Luckily, Brendon, amazing as ever, helped him out, “We met at the cafe! I think he lives close to it or something because he comes in almost everyday.”

  
Ryan blushed, but luckily Spencer was to drunk to notice. Apparently Brendon did though, because his right eyebrow raised slightly.

  


"Well, it was nice to talk to you Ryan, and try to sober up Spencer. Jon doesn’t go for drunk sex that much.” And with a wink, he ducked out of their conversation.

  


After the party, Ryan avoided the cafe for a few days. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to go, but meeting Brendon at the party had been so awkward that he was nervous to see him again. The day before he had decided to go back, a sudden realization hit him like a pile of bricks. The reason he was so obsessed with Brendon wasn’t because he was lonely-well maybe it was-but it was also because he was interested in him. Romantically. For most people, this revelation, while uncomfortable, wouldn’t be that monumental. For Ryan however, it was terrifying. He knew that he tended to be aloof and shy normally, and being attracted to someone just made those traits more noticeable. He was so screwed.

  


The next day, when he walked into the cafe, he didn’t see Brendon. Thank God. After ordering a latte, he sat in his usual corner and edited a composition. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t notice someone trying to get his attention until they, or rather he, poked his shoulder.

  


“Um Ryan?” 

  
His head popped up. “What?”

  


Brendon was standing in front of him, looking as mussed and tired (and gorgeous) as usual, holding a mug. “I think this is yours, right?” He held the cup out for Ryan to take, smirking slightly.

  


Ryan grabbed the offering, glad for some distraction from Brendon’s curious expression. “Thanks,” He muttered, a flush creeping up his neck. 

  


Brendon’s smirk grew into a grin. “So were you avoiding me?” He asked.

  


“What?”

  


“Were you avoiding me? I noticed that you haven’t been here in a few days…” Brendon trailed off.

  


He had noticed him! Ryan was ecstatic. “Well I had a lot of work to do…with college and all.”

  


Brendon nodded wisely. “Ah yes, the life of a scholar.” Then his eyes lit up. “You’re pretty close with Spencer, right?”

  


“Yes…I mean we’re in a lot of classes together.”

  


“Great! Well since I know Spencer and you know Spencer I was thinking that we could all hang out sometime?”

  


Ryan stared at him for a second, before coming to his senses. “That sounds pretty cool.”

  


Brendon smiled at him, and Ryan decided that any social anxiety that he knew he would suffer from later was worth seeing that again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. I had horrible writer's block with this one. Warnings for random angst! This story has been pretty light so far, but I think that for the next few chapters it's going to be a bit darker. This chapter is super short sorry. I'm super busy right now so I don't have a lot of time. Also, I'm thinking of doing a short drabble of Brendon's perspective, but I don't know if I should.
> 
> Have a lovely week! Kudos and comments are appreciated as always.
> 
> xoxo Sasha

The winter months had snuck upon him. Gentle layers of snow feathered the sidewalks, and he helped Ms. Mitchell salt the pavement in front of the apartment building. The cold in Central Park bit his nose and froze his feet. The heater in his room did nothing to warm him, so he bought a second-hand comforter to protect him from the frigidity. He was miserably freezing though, and it was fucking exhilarating. The owner of the cafe, Gerard, refused to play music for religious holidays-but he did make his younger brother, Mikey, cut out some paper snowflakes and tape them on the front windows. Ryan worked on his end of term composition and hung out with Spencer, making sure to not bring up Brendon. Because he hadn’t called Ryan. In fact, there had been no sight of Brendon since he asked Ryan to hang out. It had been nearly a week.

  


Spencer had come with him to the cafe to have coffee. Ryan stared at the register with intensity and silence. Finally, Spencer set his mug down heavily.  


“God, Ryan, what’s wrong with you?” His eyebrows raised inquisitively.  


Ryan’s head shot back forward to pay attention to his friend. “Oh…it’s nothing. Just really fucking tired I guess.” He said.  


“And the cash register at a shitty cafe is going to fix your sleep patterns?” Spencer responded dryly.  


Ryan laughed because this whole situation was just so fucking funny. He was pining after some guy who he’d met (properly) at a party, and instead of playing cool, he stalked him when he didn’t get a call back. Then Brendon walked in. Shit. He stopped laughing abruptly. Luckily Spencer hadn’t spotted the barista yet. Brendon looked around the dining area, and when he finally spotted Ryan, he made his way over to their table, expression intense.  


“Hey, Ryan, Spencer.”  


Spencer’s head whipped around and he stared at Brendon Urie. Turning around, he grinned at Ryan. “How in the name of all that is holy do you know this guy? He’s impossible to catch?” Apparently, Spencer was a forgetful drunk.  


Ryan payed no attention to Spencer’s excited rambling. “You never called me.” He stated, mouth pursed.  


Brendon looked at him, confused. “You didn’t give me your number.”  


Ryan stared at him. “I didn’t?”  


“No.”  


At this point, Spencer started laughing. Brendon’s secret eyes were tinged with amusement. Ryan was mortified. Well fuck. Yet another social blunder, and he was no where near close to Brendon.  


“Well this is awkward,” He muttered, hands twisting.  


At that, the amusement in Brendon’s eyes spread throughout his face, and he doubled over. “Oh my god, it’s not that big of a deal, don’t worry dude.” He grinned at him. “Trust me I’ve gone through much worse.”  


Ryan felt a hesitant smile press his lips, as he took a sip of coffee and regained his aloof dignity.  


Spencer made eye contact, and raised his eyebrows. Ryan blushed. The detail on the foot of the coffee table was now the most interesting thing in the world, its swirls nicked by years of use.  


Brendon cleared his throat, still grinning, “So Jon is making us have a party again tomorrow night. Maybe you guys should show up?”  


Spencer perked up at the mention of Jon. “Sure that sounds cool!”  


Ryan, who was about to “politely decline” glared at his friend, but Spencer just raised an eyebrow and said, “We totally want to go, right Ryan?”  


Brendon turned his beautiful gaze on Ryan. He was trapped. He was going to fucking kill Spencer later.  


“Um yeah. I guess we could be there for a while.”  


Brendon smiled. And Ryan, who had spent nearly three months observing the different inflections in Brendon’s grins, melted under his happiness.  


*************

The party was as loud and weed-filled as the one the week before. Spencer ditched him to make out with Jon, so Ryan stood awkwardly by a table in the corner of the tiny living room. There was no sign of Brendon. At least they played good music. And then, out of nowhere, a drunk guy was standing in front of him.  


“Hey,” Random drunk guy said.  


Ryan stared at him distrustfully.  


“My name is Alexander.”  


Ryan nodded in order to establish a semblance of normal social interaction. “Ryan,” He said.  


Alexander smiled, sultry. “Nice to meet you Ryan. Do you wanna dance?”  


Ryan shook his head, lifting his chin slightly. “No I’m good thanks.”  


Alexander frowned. “It’s just a dance! Don’t be a prude.”  


Apparently Alexander was an angry drunk. Apparently Ryan was horrible at judging situations because when Alexander grabbed his hand, trying to drag him, everything poured back into his mind. Flashbacks of pain and screaming. Begging. The red rage of pain and self-defense. The draining grey of hopelessness. And he felt it all again. That was where they touched him first, his right wrist.  


He pulled away with urgency. Running past kaleidoscope faces, black hole eyes. Running out the door into the cold. He saw Brendon walking out of a bedroom with some guy, he saw as Brendon's face twisted with confusion.  


He slumped against the wall outside the building, shaking. Who had he been kidding, thinking that by leaving, he could forget everything, when just a touch triggered him. All his hopes for Brendon were extinguished. Pulling himself off the ground, he texted Spencer, hands shaking. Whether from fear or cold he couldn’t tell.  
He got a cab. He called his mom. Told her that he was going to come home for the holidays after all. Her tone was worried. He was exhausted. Falling into bed, he curled in on himself and sobbed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So it's very late I know. I had a busy week at school and didn't have anytime to write. This chapter is a bit longer than the others if that makes my tardiness any better :)
> 
> A note on Ryan in this chapter. His actions and thoughts may not always seem rational for the situation, but since I am writing from his pov, I am including the realities of his mental illness and PTSD. 
> 
> Hope you like this update! Comments and kudos are appreciated as always.
> 
> xoxo Sasha

Home was familiar and warm-and stiflingly uncomfortable. Sylvie had come home too, bursting with energy and kindness. His parents were gentle. The people from home town were stiff and angry. Him being the only gay kid out of the closet gave him a reputation. Plus there was the whole rape thing.  


The gang rape thing. Everybody knew, his neighbors, the priests, the mothers and kids. The fathers and brothers and cats and dogs and everyone. And they stared at him with part pity and part disgust. See, when the rape happened, they had left him on the school playground, beaten and bloody and ruined. Disgusting, for every eye to see.  


So Ryan had mixed feelings about his birth-place.  


Christmas day approached, and break was half over. Spencer had called him dozens of times, and Ryan had ignored him. Brendon, the boy he barely knew, crossed his mind several times, and he pushed away. He had no room for anything but school and recovery. That’s what he told himself.  


There were things he understood. Happiness, sadness, pain. Not love. At least not love in the way he knew someone would want it. Sex, touching-soft breathes and worn out bodies. He was broken and hopeless. He was tired, after being away from his family for so long.  


Unfortunately, he had to go back to New York, and so, on the day before the last day of holiday, he packed his tiny suit case, kissed his mother goodbye, and got back on a plane to his new home. Back to his tiny apartment and shitty meals. Back to facing Spencer’s questions and his affection for Brendon. He bought a stuffed animal and named her Dottie before he got on the plane, drawing some questioning stares as to why a grown man was carrying a toy Beagle.  


New York was still as snowy as it had been when he left, though the snow was dirty and mostly slush. Ms. Mitchell smiled warmly at him from her office as he walked into the apartment building. Bypassing the broken elevator, he ran up the cracked concrete stairs. His bed was a welcoming distraction from the overwhelming loneliness he felt. He was in the most lively city in the United States, and yet Ryan felt more alone than he ever had. He was sure that Spencer was angry with him for leaving the party-that Brendon was just being nice.  


***  


Classes started up again, and he diligently went through his schedule. Spencer looked at him oddly whenever they passed each other, and several times, tried to catch up with him. But Ryan didn’t deserve his friendship. He didn’t deserve anything  


He avoided the cafe like the plague. He hadn’t seen Brendon in almost a month when Spencer texted him and asked him to come over. Reluctantly, Ryan agreed, and threw on some sweat-pants and a jacket. Although he usually dressed with impeccable style, he was too tired and sad and depressed to bother for Spencer. He supposed that it was odd that he felt okay seeing Spencer on his own terms-with the right to say yes or no to the invitation.  


He arrived at his friend’s apartment and knocked.  


Someone yelled, “Be right there!”  


Five seconds later, the door was flung open ,by-of all people,Brendon. Ryan immediately began to panic. Brendon smiled at him slowly, a bit of worry showing around his eyes.  


“Hey Ryan!” He said, opening the door wider so that he could come in.  


“Hi Brendon.” He replied. They both stared at each other. He felt more awkward than he ever had in his life, which was saying something, considering his history with uncomfortable situations.  


Spencer appeared suddenly behind Brendon, and pulled Ryan into a hug. Ryan stiffened immediately and pulled away, his breath coming short and erratic. He tried to focus himself. Spencer wouldn’t ever hurt him. He was okay. Closing his eyes, Ryan focused on breathing for a minute.  


“Hey! Ryan? Are you okay?” Spencer’s worried face swam before his eyes. Brendon hovered anxiously in the background.

“Yeah…I’m fine.” He murmured. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure. Yeah! You know where it is.”  


Ryan nodded, and walked quickly by the pair, slamming the door behind him. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale and his hair was rumpled, hands shaking. Flashbacks poured into his head like lead and he slumped against the wall. Breathing in. Breathing out. Everything was going to be okay.  


Five minutes later, he appeared in his friend’s living-room, where Jon, Brendon and Spencer were talking  
“Hey guys.”  


They all turned to look at him, and he smiled bravely. Spencer moved over and patted the space beside him on the couch. Ryan sat next to him gingerly.  


“I didn’t mean to freak you out so much dude.” Spencer’s tone was apologetic.  


“It’s fine.” He patted his friend gently on the knee. It wasn't Spencer's fault that he was such a freak.  


Spencer’s face was tense and tight.  


“So what are these two doing here?” He tried to defuse the awkwardness.  


Brendon replied. “Well. We all grew up in the same neighborhood, so I guess we just kind of stuck together here in New York.”  


“Wow. So you guys have been friends since…?”  


“….Freshman year of high school".” Jon grinned at him. “I’ve had to put up with these assholes for that long. Unbelievable, yeah?  


They all laughed. Ryan was confused though, as they all seemed to have separated significantly, seeing as Spencer had been quite surprised to see Brendon at the cafe. Seeing as Spencer seemed to be in love with Jon.  


Jon glanced at Brendon and said, “Well I guess we should get going and leave Ryan and Spencer to…hang out-or whatever.” He winked at them.  


Brendon nodded, looking at Ryan. “Or whatever.”  


Spencer laughed. Ryan frowned. Opposites attract maybe? He didn’t think so, seeing as the whole time Brendon was in the room he couldn’t stop thinking about his lips and personalty and eyes.  


Ryan thought it was pretty impossible to be attracted to anyone while Brendon Urie was in the room. And from the way he was looking at him, Jon thought the same thing. Spencer looked desperately uncomfortable now. They left and Ryan turned on Spencer.  


“You’d better tell me the story behind that awkwardness right now Spencer Smith.”  


Spencer sighed, and grimaced. “Well-”


End file.
